Wasted Potential
-Even though she's been here for some time already, there's a lot of Cybertron that Swift Blade simply hasn't managed to thoroughly visit. She'd like to get a pretty good look at the planet before it is completely subsumed by war. It would be naive of her to think that, even if the war finishes while she's still functioning, it would go back to the way it was, physically or socially. Even though she knows, intellectually, that it is her home, she still sometimes feels like an outsider. -There is a bit of scene unfolding in front of an old warehouse Swift Blade happens to be passing, involving a couple of cadets and a defiant yet diminuitive disposable. They are standing over some graffiti that has decorated the ground in front of the building. Despite this, it's actually quite beautiful, depicting an image symbolic of the equality many empties and low caste workers could only dream of...a casteless society. "...on your knees where you belong." One of them is saying. "And stay there until every drop of this mess is gone." "Mess? You call this a mess? This took me several cycles!" The mech says bitterly. "Don't you have drones to do this kind of work?" -Swift Blade is drawn by the sound of conflict, although she has no love of it. On the contrary, she is draw to it in hopes of resolution rather than stirring it up. Coming upon the scene she looks over the cadets, the 'disposable' and the art on the ground. "Might I ask what's going on here?" As usual, her tone is soft, polite. -The disposable starts to try to give his side of the story, but one of the cadets shoves him roughly aside, and even knocks him off of his feet. "I -said-, get -down-." The other looks up at Swiftblade. "-Nothing-. Just some glitch whining about having to clean up his own graffiti. You got a -problem- with that?" -"That depends on your definition of a problem," Swift Blade says evenly. "If you mean a problem with having this individual clean up the poor choice of location that he put his art on, then no." She shakes her head and sighs. -"Good then." The cadet hmphs and turns away. Only this particular disposable is refusing to obey. He glares defiantly up at them. "I'm sorry, but I -can't- destroy my own work." Turning to Swiftblade he argues, "Well if I had -access- to something better then I wouldn't -have- to put it on the ground!" The cadets scoff. "Pff, mech you're -not- an artist. The sooner you accept that, the better your life will be. Now get to work, or we'll make your -body- part of that painting." -Swift Blade nods her head to the disposable, still politely. "That would be frustrating," she agrees solemnly. Turning to the cadet, she frowns. "That seems to be a rather drastic response to someone painting on the ground compared to the sort of things that true criminals do. I don't see that this individual has harmed anyone. Certainly the street hasn't been killed by his paints." -"Oh yeah? And who're you? Sentinel Prime?" One of them taunts. "Get lost already. This is none of your business." He attempts to shove her away rudely. Meanwhile the other cadet continues to threaten the graffiti artist. He's a disposable, no one's going to care if he dies, right? -Swift Blade merely moves out of the way. While there are a lot of things Swift Blade dosen't know, she /does/ know how to move under aggression. "Obviously not. He wouldn't care to interfere here, now would he?" she asks, her tone rather direct. "As far as being my business goes, well, you work for the law, yes?" -"Yeah, so it's our job to make sure the rules are kept, like rules against -vandalism-." The mech replies tersely. "And this is -definitely- not your business." Meanwhile, the disposable is finally forced to get down on his knees and slowly scrub away his own work of art. The poor mech looks...distraught enough to cry. -"And are there no rules about being polite?" Swift Blade asks. "Or guidelines for proportional response?" She shakes her head. "I really would hate to believe that those who are meant to protect the citizens and serve the law are so poorly trained." Then she kneels down beside the 'disposable'. "If this is too painful for you, then I will aid you in your task. There will be other places for your art; places that will show more appreciation for its merits." -"-Polite-?" The cadet scoffs again. "Ha! He's a -disposable-. Do you have to be polite to a tool?" They burst out laughing, shaking their heads as Swiftblade stoops to speak to the smaller mech, who just sighs sadly. "It doesn't make it any less painful." he mutters. "And I know there are other places, but not any that I have access to..." Finally, the cadets stop laughing, and glare suspiciously at her. "What're you talking about? I -told- you to get lost, so -get- before we decide to arrest -you- too." -Swift Blade looks up from where she kneels. "How old are you?" she demands, rather coldly. "What do you know of your own planet's history? We were slaves once; I know because I was there." Her voice gets increasingly colder. "We were /all/ 'disposable' then. I was treated like a THING for millions of years before I was made free. And in all those years, I would have been given much to be spoken to like a person, like a living thing, which I was, but no body could see it." She pauses. "And do you know WHY no one could see it?" -"What part of 'get lost' didn't you understand?" The one who had scoffed at her just now says threateningly. The other brushes her questions off. "Don't know, and don't care. This disposable has a job, and it's -not- painting the streets. Not even sure how he even got his hands on art supplies, but we're gonna -find out-." Once the smaller mech as finished destroying his own work, he is jerked roughly to his feet and cuffed. "Now -get lost-, like we said before, unless you want one of these, too." He threatens, waving another pair of stasis cuffs in front of her. -"Whether you arrest me or not, I suggest you brush up on your history," Swift Blade says. "And what exactly would I be charged with? It is illegal here to speak with officers of the law?" Her optic ridges go up. "Somehow I doubt that. As for getting lost, I believe it is the pair of you who are lost." -"Lost? Oh no. We know -exactly- what we're doing, thank you." They start to drag the dejected disposable away. "And no amount of -history- or stuff in the past is going to change that." -Swift Blade moves to follow. "What will happen to him?" she asks them as she moves along. "And nothing will change if you don't believe it will. Change requires belief, whether it be yours or...someone else's." -"Don't know, don't care. Not our job." comes the reply. And as for change? "Exactly, and I don't -want- it to, either." -"Of course not. You get to bully others without reproach and call it justice," Swift Blade says. "Would you be so pleased with the system if the lottery of sparking had left you on the bottom, cleaning gutters and living in fear of being 'disposed'?" -They shrug and keep going. "Sure yeah, no, whatever. Doesn't matter." Again her questions are brushed off. "What's your point, exactly? You want us to let this guy off or what, because that's -not- gonna happen." -"It's not about 'letting him off'," Swift Blade says. "If he did something wrong, then he did something wrong. However, the way you're treating him should not be considered acceptible at all. So I wish to see what it is that is to be his fate and how your superiors handle this." Her expression softens. "Not that I can blame this mech for wishing to express himself, even if the place wasn't the best idea." -"Expressing yourself is a luxury not everyone is entitled to." The apparently more talkative cadet replies gruffly. "Least of all, him." He sighs. "Look, you want to know what's gonna happen to you, why don't you go ask -Prowl-, okay? Because we -don't know-." -"Alright, then, at what point does he leave your custody? Who do you generally hand people over to?" Surely they would know that much. Swift Blade keeps an optic on the unfortunate disposable. Part of her wonders why, under such a callous law, people keep TRYING things that will get them in trouble. The other part knows the answer and applauds the bravery. -"We take him to the station, and that's it." he answers. "Whoever happens to be in charge over there whenever we get there. Happy now?" -"Hardly," Swift Blade says dryly. "But thank you for your answer all the same." And she continues to follow. After all, a police station isn't exactly a top secret facility. In theory. -No, it isn't really. The two cadets quicken their pace, perhaps to avoid further annoying questions from Swift Blade, making their way toward a larger squad vehicle that the disposable is dumped into before they drive off toward the police station. No one is stopping her from following them, certainly. As long as they don't have to listen to her attempts at starting a political debate with them.... -Swift Blade transforms to keep up with the squad vehicle. If she had been of a different temperment, she likely would have taken action against the brash, rude, and callous cadets. As it is, however, she has the patience to deal with things on a more long term scale. Fighting them really wouldn't accomplish much of anything. -It's not long before the Rodion police station looms into view, and the squad vehicle pulls up to a loading dock where the cadets drag the arrested mech inside and out of sight. But, again, it's no secret facility, and the main doors remain open to the public during office hours. -Swift Blade transforms part way down and lands on her feet. She proceedes directly in through the main doors. Taking a moment, she glances around to get an idea of the layout of the place, noting who, if anyone, is in the front area. -There's an average amount of people milling about the atrium. A few civilians inquiring about this and that, and of course staff, mostly office clerks are just going about their usual duties. And--oh, there is someone she might recognize. Yes, Prowl, chief of Cybertronian security. He's just stepping out of the gravlift, his face sort of obscured behind a datapad. -Swift Blade smiles ever so faintly as she spots Prowl. Unsure of whether this is good luck or bad, she takes a few steps towards him. "Excuse me," she says politely to get his attention. Her tone is not pressing. -Prowl looks up from the datapad upon hearing her addressing him. Now who...? Oh, her. "Swift Blade, was it?" he puts the datapad away. "Hm? What is it?" -"Yes," the seeker femme says shortly. "I was wondering if there was a list of laws with coordinating punishments for offenses against them," she says. At least it's something tangible and not philosophical...yet. -Prowl arches an optic ridge at her. Did she really just ask for that? Normal people who are not Ultra Magnus or Prowl don't typically interest themselves in reading those types of things. He shrugs. "I suppose. But I'm afraid it's much more than a simple list. Punishment is often dependent on an individual's record, the situation surrounding the crime, the damage resulting from it, among other things." -Swift Blade nods her head at this. "Fair enough," she states. And no, she didn't suddenly grow into Ultra Magnus' shape and form. "Who typically trains the cadets?" is her next question, which again, is probably pretty concrete. -"They usually have a supervising officer assigned to them." Prowl replies. "Although I do run training exercises myself from time to time." He frowns. "Why?" -"I don't suppose history is considered a relevant lesson? Nor basic courtesy?" Swift Blade presses. -Prowl sighs. Oh, -now- he knows what this is about. He shakes his head. "Look, you have a complaint about one of the cadets, just get right to the point. I don't have -time- for pointless prattle. There are plenty of rude people in the world, cadets or otherwise." -"But isn't it their job to be a shining example to the rest of society?" Swift Blade says. "And I don't know if the problem is with the cadets or the system that created them, but I'm pretty sure that if they have been taught the merits of proportional response that they elected to ignore that lesson." She sighs. "So before I issued a complaint, I would need to know if I have a leg to stand on." -"People choose to ignore instruction every cycle." Prowl mutters. "How does this surprise you?" He questions, sounding rather callous. "It's our responsibility to make sure they know how to do their jobs and get the results we need, beyond that we have no control, barring direct mental interference." He finds it rather ironic that she's here, complaining about 'disproportionate responses' from cadets, given the people he likely -knows- she hangs around all the time. If anyone is guilty of a disproportionate response, it's -them-. -Ah, but if Prowl wasn't there, he doesn't know how little the harm that was being done. As for what he knows, Swift Blade doesn't know what he knows, though she assumes that if he knew definitively where her loyalties lay, he wouldn't be chatting with her now. Then again, he could be more devious than his outward appearances suggest. "People, yes, but shouldn't the law at least be able to follow itself?" She frowns. "The mech that was just arrested, he hadn't actually done any harm, and he was being treated unfairly for what he /had/ done. Reasonable laws are far more likely to be followed than unreasonable ones. And while the law itself was reasonable, the response generated by the breaking of it was not." -"And no, it is -not- their job to be a 'shining example', in fact, their job is to prevent chaos from erupting by enforcing the law." Prowl adds to her former statement. But he shakes his head at her further arguments. Really? She's talking about unfair? Ha. "Unfair, you say. Well since we're on the topic of -fairness-, do you think that attacking innocent civilians at a Relinquishment Clinic is fair, simply because you think the people who are running it are doing some heinous, evil thing in your optics? Do you think they deserve to be punished for someone else's wrongdoing? Do you think trying to fix 'injustice' with injustice of your own is going to be -effective-?" "'The law' is not a person. It is not capable of following or not following itself. Officers, enforcers, cadets, whatever---they may be representatives or even creators but they are certainly not the law itself." -"But /how/ can they enforce the law if they don't care about that same law? And what is the point of ensuring order if it is a /bad/ order?" His later statements she listens to without interruption, her optics scanning him for any indication if he is fishing for a particular response or simply is making a point from the media. "When justice is broken, it is hard to say what is right or fair. If someone is fighting the system, that is one thing, but for the system itself to discard what it stands for has an entirely different ring." She tilts her head to the side. "Just and fair. Those words should be synonmous. But your point doesn't run counter to mine. Those who have done those things may very well require harsh punishment. I won't deny that. But making art on the street is hardly in that level of crime. It should NOT be treated as such." -"And who is to be the judge of what a 'bad' system and a 'good' system is?" Prowl challenges. "You? Me? Sentinel? Megatron, even? Well -someone- has to." "In an ideal world, everyone who represents the law respects it as much as possible, but unfortunately we can't always afford to be that -picky-." He folds his arms. "So you agree that attacking innocent civilians just because you think you've been wronged isn't right? Well then why do you support it by fraternizing with those who engage such attacks? You come in here, complaining about unjust treatment, and yet you actively support the very mechs who would kill and maim anyone who gets in their way simply because they're angry at the system. You're just as much of a hypocrite as the people you so flagrantly criticize." -"If you stacked up all the people on this planet..." Swift Blade starts, then stops. "No, if you stacked up everything that could think and feel and voice an opinion whether or not they were considered people by the law, and you learned that most of them hated the way things were done around here, would that matter? If 60% of the population believed that there must be a better way, would that be enough? How about 70%? 90?" She narrows her optics. "I came in here to complain about the unfair treatment because it was better than attacking them and telling that unfortunate individual to run. It would have done no good to them, or myself. If your law is supposed to be impartial, then what difference does it make if I am the one complaining. That mech shouldn't have been treated like that. It is why people are angry. People want a change, and if talking about it and going through the proper channels doesn't affect change, what do /you/ suggest they do? Accept that they have no value and that they can be abused because the law deems it 'proper' to do so?" -"I never claimed it was impartial." Prowl retorts. "-Everything- is partial, Swiftblade. That is, everything that was written or created by someone, because -people- are biased, that's just a fact of life. And yes, in fact," he nods at her final questions. "They should simply accept their lot in life, and realize that it's better than death and chaos. And if they've decided it isn't better than death? Well that's what the Relinquishment Clinics are for, right? You're a sharp one...if just as self-rightenous and hypocritical as those you claim are everything that's wrong with this world. Which is precisely why it -does- matter who is complaining. After all, if you happened to see those cadets you were griping about getting 'disproportionately' punished by their superior officers or something minor, and then they came to complain to you about their unjust treatment, would -you- feel any sympathy for them? I doubt it, because they're just as guilty of it themselves." "And don't you start telling me that you would for the sake of argument, because you -wouldn't-. If you were -actually- that compassionate, you wouldn't be hanging around the likes of Megatron, or Blast Off for that matter, not to mention -helping- them." Yes, they've been watching her. -Swift Blade shakes her head. "It's not about just compassion, though that can go a long way. There are wrong ways to fix what is wrong, and there are right ways, but just because some of the people of Cybertron choose to fix it the wrong way doesn't mean that what needs to be fixed is suddenly not broken," she says. "Everyone is a bit of a hypocrite; we can't help it I suppose. Chaos is not preferable. I don't prefer it as a general rule, but people are being suffocated by the laws of this planet. That is not what law is for; it might protect the bodies and lives of people, but it's not just." She pulls herself up short. "But I didn't come here to talk about the whole situation. If you want people to follow the law, give them a REASON to do so. Treating people like the enemy /before/ they are the enemy is just going to make them less likely to care about the law. Why should they care about the law, if the law does not care about them? The poor mech they just brought in was simply trying to express himself through art. He harmed no one, but somehow that entitles him to be abused and threatened by those cadets. I don't know why you think that is defensible." -As they are speaking a pair of bulkier-looking officres step through the doors behind her, and start moving toward her. "I never said it was defensible. I said it was beyond my control, and that it shouldn't come as a surprise, especially since this graffiti artist isn't the only one being unjustly treated." Prowl shrugs, brushing the issue off like dust or something. Of course she's talking like that, she's been listening to scrap from Megatron and all his self-righteous rustwash for the past several decacycles. Pff, a shame. "We can't -make- anyone care about the law, or about anything for that matter. Nor is it our job to make them care about it. They have to make that decision for themselves. Our job is to keep the peace by enforcing the law; which, by the way, often involves -neutralizing- threats before they can do any real damage." Threats like Swiftblade, who clearly showed what she was capable of by assisting the Decepticons in hijacking an armory transport...well, that's how it looked, anyway. He sighs, shaking his head. "Disappointing that you had to end up running with misguided criminals like Blast Off...so much wasted potential." He turns around, heading toward a cubicle near the back as he nods toward the officers behind her. "Cuff her." -"Beyond your control...perhaps. Surprised, no I wasn't surprised. Indignant, yes." Eyeing the pair of mechs she weighs her options. "You condemn us for fighting a system that is wrong. I feel sorrow that you can't see past the boundaries of your 'job'." She steps back, trying to gauge if she can make it out the door or not before the toughs get her. The Seeker isn't sure if Prowl is anticipating her to fight back, or if he thought she would just stand there and allow herself to be cuffed. "My potential was wasted long before I got here," she states. -"Then it's too bad you had to -continue- wasting it." Prowl replies without turning around. The two heavies are almost on top of her, and one of them reaches out to grab her from behind, attempting to twist her arms beind her back. -Swift Blade gauges that her chances aren't very good. It's true, she could fight, and she might even win. But likely there are security cameras, granting more footage for fuel. Besides, she couldn't be sure that anyone else would be safe. Yet, there was so much fear of being taken in by others, that such a fate doesn't suit her either. Finally she makes her decision. In a couple of quick motions her swords are unlocked from her side, but instead of preparing to strike, she holds them out, hilt first, to the second heavy, the one not trying to cuff her. "Alright, I'll go quietly," she says. -"Hmph. Wise move." The mech replies, and quickly confiscates her weapons, while the other slaps stasis cuffs onto her arms. "Hah, did you seriously think you could just walk into a place like this and -not- get arrested?" he shakes his head, smirking. "Heheh. Figured the poor street artist would get 'er attention. What a sap." And with that, she's escorted off to the detainment cells below the station. -Whether or not it was a setup, Swift Blade doesn't have time for regrets. She neither holds her head high, nor hangs it in shame, but rather she looks directly ahead. "The thought had occurred to me," is all she'll say in answer to the, likely, rhetorical question.